


To the Revolution

by Keep_Looning



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: But it's mostly offscreen, England's a dick, Gen, Hamilton reference at the end, Mostly just Prussia and America vibing, Pretty lowkey, Revolutionary War, and then a little treat at the end ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Looning/pseuds/Keep_Looning
Summary: During one of the most turbulent times in America’s history, Prussia had stepped in to fill many roles: a mentor, a role model, and (dare he say it) almost a brother. The latter role was subtler, those times of brotherhood occurring seemingly at random. But they happened, and without Prussia, America might not have existed as we know him today.A quiet moment of friendship during the American War of Independence.— — — —Historically accurate? For the most part. Hamilton reference at the end? But of course.
Relationships: America & Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	To the Revolution

A singular cloud hung over the vast countryside, bringing the promise of more snow to a landscape already submerged by the powdery substance. But it would hold off until tomorrow, or at least, that’s what Prussia’s instincts told him. He trusted those instincts, for they had kept him alive in some of the more brutal conquests of his youth. 

Soldiers milled around the sprawling encampment, fires beginning to bloom from the ground like pockets of marigolds in the fleeting summer heat. They ambled around listlessly, without mirth nor the typical gruff exchanges that were characteristic of soldiers. No sweet songs of victory spilled from their lips, for they had yet to taste such triumph. It was a dismal place indeed, and it was only bound to get worse if America couldn’t snap back from the depressive episode he’d been caught in.

Prussia rolled his eyes to himself at the thought of the young, teenaged nation. The kid was resilient, that was for damn sure. But he was also impulsive, childish, and, the worst of all, _hesitant_ to completely commit to the cause. There was no room for hesitance in war, that much Prussia knew better than most. Enthusiasm for the war was waning, and especially now that winter was upon them. The Americans had heart, but no skill, and unfortunately it wasn’t _heart_ that won wars against global superpowers.

With a sigh, Prussia rubbed his hands together to try and coax the warmth back into his fingers. It was shaping up to be a brutal winter indeed, and unfortunately empty stomachs and frozen fingertips yielded unreliable men. Prussia would have to do something about that soon if he wanted to fan these dying embers back into the raging inferno it had once been.

The sun was beginning to dip under the horizon, watery light bleeding onto the vast snowy landscape and setting ablaze with its vermillion rays. Prussia turned his face to it just to feel the dwindling warmth, pulling his blue wool coat just a little more firmly over his shoulders before turning away. He trudged through the large encampment, waving to a few soldiers who recognized him before pushing his way into a large, circular tent at the center of camp.

A gust of blessedly warm air blew over Prussia, welcoming him into the cozy little space. A soft glow of light smoldered in the center of the tent, a small brazier chasing off the worst of the chill. A few oil lanterns were scattered here and there, an unmade bed pushed to one side. Prussia stepped inside, nearly tripping on a discarded jacket thrown in his path. He glared at it, peering up to see a multitude of papers strewn haphazardly across the floor. There were even some uneaten crusts on the ground, a few ants attempting to carry their plunder away.

Prussia looked at the mess with distaste, irritated that this damn kid didn’t bother to pick up after himself. He looked around to find the source of the untidy room, not disappointed when he spotted a small form hunched over a wooden desk. The sound of a quill scratching against the parchment was the only thing to disturb the stagnant air, and it was clear that Prussia’s presence had yet to be noticed. 

Not wasting a moment more, Prussia strode up to stand directly behind the desk, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. He loudly and deliberately cleared his throat.

The blond jerked in surprise, snapping wide blue eyes upwards to endure Prussia’s disapproving stare. America looked, in a word, _exhausted,_ heavy bags weighing down the skin under his red-rimmed eyes. His skin was sallow, and that normal gleam of mischief and passion had been dulled.

When America saw that it was only Prussia, some of the tension drained from his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, offering a sheepish smile. “Um, hi?”

Prussia snorted, gesturing with one arm around the room. “Care to explain?

“What?” America pouted, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s my room, why do you care if it’s messy?”

“Don’t be a brat, remember who you’re talking to.” Prussia said, pleased when the younger uncrossed his arms and sat a little straighter. “And haven’t I taught you anything? A tidy room is a-”

“-tidy mind. Yeah, I know.” America finished for him, turning his back to the albino to lean over his desk once more. His eyes scanned the content of the letter he’d been writing, a wistful expression washing over his face. “Just give me a minute, I’m trying to write something.”

Prussia noticed his dour mood, the way he wasn’t talking back with his usual insolence. America wasn’t normally so morose, but these were trying times. Prussia leaned over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the teen’s clumsy writing, shaking his head sadly when he realized what he was looking at. “You can’t keep playing this game. Either you’re all in, or all out.”

America nodded, drumming his fingers idly on the wooden desk. The repetitive _thunk_ of each of those digits making contact with the surface of the table were swallowed by the heavy folds of the tent, the occasional _pop_ of the wood in the brazier only added to the tension in the room. Eventually, America snapped out of his frozen state, crumpling the letter he’d been hunched over before grabbing a new piece of parchment, “Maybe he’s just not getting them.”

Prussia looked on in disbelief, deciding he ought to put an end to the exercise in self-destruction now. He promptly reached over the teen’s shoulder and plucked the quill from his grasp. “This is what I’m talking about!”

“Hey, give that back!” America shouted, turning to try and reclaim his quill. “Seriously, this will be the last letter!”

“You said that about the last three.” Prussia said, taking a large step back to be outside of grabbing distance. “No amount of grovelling is going to convince eyebrows to stop, so you can just forget that right now!”

“You don’t understand.” America said, pushing out of his chair to stomp towards the taller nation. “I don’t want a war, I never wanted a war! Maybe if I can convince him to stop taxing us, things can go back to normal!”

Prussia held the quill high over his head, glaring down at the younger, “Do you hear yourself right now? There is no _normal_ between you and him anymore, you destroyed that when you declared war.”

America strained his arm upwards to try and grab the quill, although he wasn’t making much progress. He looked exhausted, hours of training, reading, and writing having wrung him completely out. “I know, but… but I...” he couldn’t finish the statement, there was simply nothing to say. America ceased in his struggling, arms falling limply to his side. 

_Good, maybe I got through to the brat._ Prussia thought with satisfaction, lowering his arm so he no longer held the quill over both their heads. He clapped his other hand on the teen’s shoulder, guiding him to the bed before pushing him down to sit on the edge of it. After returning the quill to the desk, Prussia made his way to stand in front of the blond with his arms crossed.

America squirmed under that unwavering scrutiny, shifting his eyes anywhere that wasn’t in the direction of that startling red gaze. His uniform didn’t quite fit properly, making him look smaller than what he really was. He’d only very recently grown out of his colony years, his transition into a bonafide nation starting to take root. There was no setting these gears out of motion; America would either become a country in his own right, or be crushed under the might of the most powerful empire in the world.

God, Prussia hoped for the former.

With a long-suffering sigh, Prussia finally let his stern demeanor melt away and took a seat next to the teen. The kid had no discipline, although he made up for it in pure fucking _attitude._ But right now, that attitude seemed muted, and Prussia thought he knew why. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you, kid?”

America shifted nervously, turning his head guiltily away. “There’s no time.”

Prussia scoffed, poking the blond sharply in the side. “How the hell do you expect to raise an army if you’re not even taking care of yourself? Don’t you know anything about war?”

“Ow, what the hell?” America grumbled, rubbing at the spot where he’d been poked before levelling a glare at the cheeky albino. “And I know plenty about war!”

“Oh, do you now?” Prussia asked, rolling his eyes at the way America crossed his arms petulantly over his chest. “Even more than me? Someone who’s got _centuries_ on your adolescent ass?”

“I never said that.” he mumbled under his breath.

Prussia cracked a small smile, internally pleased that he was finally mouthing off. If America’s rebellious spirit faded, then all would truly be lost. “Right, so maybe you should listen to me when I say that you need to sleep!”

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like it’ll kill me.” America said.

“Yeah, but a poorly aimed musket shot might.” Prussia said pointedly, once again jabbing him harshly in the side. “Dying’s a fucking bitch, it might take weeks for you to reappear.” 

America hissed in pain, glaring at the albino as he protectively held his side. “Would you stop doing that? And not sleeping is a hell of a lot different than getting shot!”

“What do you think happens when you’re on the battlefield half asleep?” Prussia asked, reaching around to sharply jab America’s other side. “You get fucking shot!”

“I said stop that!” America whined, trying to escape the harsh pokes that now assaulted him from all angles. “That hurts, stop!”

Prussia let out a sharp bark of laughter, never ceasing in his vicious assault even as America curled up on his side. “You think this hurts? Try a gunshot wound to the gut!”

America tried to protect his stomach, but was helpless when Prussia pried his arms away and landed multiple jabs there. “No, let me go!”

But Prussia wouldn’t, his own smile growing more broad when he noticed that America was no longer groaning in pain, but actually _giggling._ His eyes were squeezed shut, but bright laughter was pouring from his lips. Prussia poked him a few more times in the gut before he finally relented.

America instantly covered his soft middle with his hands, shoulders hitching up in his mirth. “Okay, okay! You’ve made your point!”

“Good.” Prussia said with a sharp nod, smirking when the teenaged nation tried to glare up at him from his curled up position on the bed. “You’re not going to scare me with those bags under your eyes. Get some sleep, we’ll work on your war face tomorrow.”

America’s attempted glare melted into a pout. He pushed himself up so he was once again sitting, glancing very briefly to his desk before back to Prussia. “I will, honest. I just have some things to finish up first.”

With a heavy roll of the eyes, Prussia stood. He walked over to the desk, rifling through the multitudes of aborted attempts to reason with England with a vengeful eye. England really was one cruel motherfucker, and Prussia couldn’t stand to see this kid destroy himself for a tyrant who couldn’t relinquish his hold on a colony that was no longer his. So, despite the protests of a certain American, Prussia picked up the pile of parchment and promptly shoved it into the brazier. 

“Hey, you can’t-”

“I just did.” Prussia cut him off, smirking when the flame engulfed those damned letters. Prussia’s features were set ablaze by the sudden spark of fire, highlighting his scarlet eyes so intensely that he more closely resembled a demon than a man. 

America must have thought so too, because he shied away when Prussia snapped those blazing eyes upwards.

“You don’t need that bastard.” Prussia said, swiftly approaching the bed and pushing America down until his head met the pillow. “You _will_ learn discipline, and if I have to beat it into you, then so be it. But for now, to bed! _Sofort!”_

With one final grumble, America finally, _finally,_ acquiesced. He kicked off his boots and shrugged off his overcoat before dropping them both onto the floor. Then he reached down and pulled his blanket over his body, a soft sigh of relief escaping his lips.

While Prussia was none too pleased to see the teen deposit everything in an unceremonious heap on the ground, he supposed he could let it go for now. He made his way to each lamp, turning down the flame to a soft glow. Prussia had a great many things to do yet before the sun rose, but before he left he turned to make sure America was at least attempting to sleep.

The blond was sound asleep already, the gentle rise and fall of his chest being the only movement the otherwise fidgety nation exhibited.

Prussia smirked, pushing open the tent’s entrance with a muttered, “Sleep well, brat.”

* * *

_Roughly two and a half centuries later._

“Dude, what did I tell you? Pretty awesome, right!” America shouted, earning more than one angry glare from passersby. He pushed his way out onto the sidewalk with an obnoxious flourish, leading his small audience down the street and past a little sign with the words _Broadway_ printed on it. 

“I thought it was just wonderful!” France smirked, nudging a pouting England playfully in the side. “My favorite part was when England lost.”

“Piss off!” England snarled.

Prussia was feeling just as irritated as England, but for a completely different reason. He turned an annoyed glare to the loud American, huffing childishly. “Where was I, you ungrateful brat!”

America’s smile turned sheepish, and he brought a hand up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. “Um, sorry dude. I didn’t write the musical.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t even mentioned!” Prussia shouted, feeling more than a little left out. “I’m the one who created the drill that your military still fucking uses!”

“I guess you just weren’t as important as you thought.” Francis said cheekily, sending a wink the albino’s way. “After all, it was I who provided the greatest aid to our dearest _Amérique_ here.”

“Yeah, well it was I who disciplined the brat’s damn army! Without me, they wouldn’t have lasted a year!”

America pushed his way in between them. “Bros, let’s just chill out! You were both important, I couldn’t have kicked England’s butt without either of you!”

“Bollocks!” England yelled, finally inserting himself into the conversation. “You won out of pure luck, don’t try and tell anyone otherwise!”

“Sorry, we don’t speak second place.” France said, earning a sharp thwack to the back of his head courtesy of England.

Following just a few steps behind, listening with a dejected pout of his own, was Canada. He sighed, mumbling so softly it could scarce be heard, “I was there too, eh. Why wasn’t I mentioned?”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: 
> 
> Sofort: [German] immediately; right away
> 
> Hi! Hoped you liked the fic! 
> 
> Disclaimer: this is not one hundred percent accurate. During the American Revolution, it was actually England who hired about 30,000 German mercenaries (Hessians) BUT General Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben was a Prussian officer who established a lot of the US's military drills, customs, and courtesies that are still used today! He was instrumental in raising morale and disciplining an otherwise undisciplined fighting force. So, here we have a (not-so-historically-accurate) moment between Prussia and teen!America.
> 
> However, it is very true that not a lot of Americans actually supported the revolution at the time, hence America's hesitance. Many thought they could go back to normal with England, and indeed tried to at many points. Clearly that didn't work out lol.
> 
> Also this fic was based on the hc of this wonderful tiktok! 
> 
> https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeew6UaK/
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
